


Heat Wave

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-14 22:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7194038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry sees Severus in a new light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat Wave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilyseyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyseyes/gifts).



> **A/N:** Written for my darling Lilyseyes, in celebration of her birthday! Prompt(s) requested: heat wave. Happy Birthday, bb! 
> 
> **Beta(s):** Sevfan and Emynn.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

~

Heat Wave

~

The first time Harry notices Severus’ arms is during a heat wave. It’s his first year as Defence professor, after they’ve made their peace and have become friends of a sort, and as he goes to the Severus’ office to discuss the curriculum, he doesn’t know the familiar trip will that day change his life. 

Cooling Charms are failing all through the castle, leftover damage from the war is the going theory, and the unseasonably warm weather in Scotland has them all sweating. Harry’s taken to wearing t-shirts and no robes, and it doesn’t occur to him that Severus might do the same. He’s only ever seen Severus in his Headmaster’s robes, all buttoned up and stern. But that’s not how he dresses in a heat wave.

Harry stops dead at the door and stares as his world shifts and realigns. 

Severus has muscled arms, lightly sprinkled with dark hair. Harry now knows this because he’s in a T-shirt. An actual T-shirt. His robes are hanging over the back of his chair in the event he needs to put them on quickly, Harry imagines, but that doesn’t change the fact that Severus is in a T-shirt.

It’s white, and tight. And, as it turns out, Severus’ chest is muscled, too. Harry’s mouth goes dry.

“Is there something you need, Harry?” Severus asks without looking up. 

Exhaling and trying to pry his tongue off the roof of his mouth, Harry nods. “Yes. Sorry. I wanted to talk about those changes I had in mind for the Defence curriculum. But if this is a bad time—”

“It’s fine.” Severus sighs, sets aside his parchments. “Any distraction from the budget is welcome, actually.”

And speaking of distractions… Harry keeps his eyes trained on Severus’ face, afraid to look anywhere else. He’s sure that if he glances at those shoulders, or Severus’ chest, or _anywhere_ , actually, his face will give everything away. And as Harry sits and presents his ideas, nodding as Severus makes suggestions about what he can add to his proposal, a part of his mind is focussed on those arms, those expressive hands as they fondle his quill, absently stroke bits of parchment. 

“…with those changes, I suspect the board will be happy to approve all of these.” Severus looks up. Frowns. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing!” Harry smiles. Well, tries to smile, he’s a bit too busy staring with new eyes at this man who he’s never thought of in this way before to make his lips curve the right way. 

Severus raises an eyebrow. “We’ve been colleagues too long for you to hide from me. Something is wrong.” He narrows his eyes. “Or, not wrong, but…different, perhaps?” 

Harry exhales, manages a proper smile. “Really, everything’s fine.” 

Severus eyes him for a moment before letting it go. “If you say so.” He sighs, reaching for his budget parchments. “I should get back to this.” 

“Right. Of course.” Harry gathers up his stuff, starts for the door. “I’ll, um, just see myself out.” 

“Harry.” 

Harry pauses. Even the way Severus says his name now sounds different. More intimate. It’s as if now that Harry’s pondering kissing that mouth, the words that escape said mouth have been somehow made more sensual. Severus’ voice sends a shudder down his spine. “Yes?” 

“You do know that if anything is bothering you, anything at all, you may come to me, yes?” Severus’ dark eyes are intent, his expression serious. “I consider you one of my few, true friends.” 

And in the moment Harry realises he can say the same. “I do know that,” he says, meaning it. “Thanks. And, erm, likewise.” 

Severus’ expression doesn’t change, but Harry senses he’s pleased. “I’ll see you this evening.” 

“This evening?” Harry squeaks.

“At supper.” Severus absently taps his quill feather against his lips. “Unless you have other plans?”

“No.” Harry clears his throat. “No, I don’t. I’ll see you then.” And, feeling Severus’ eyes on him as he turns away, he flees.

By that afternoon, Harry has convinced himself it’s all an aberration. He hadn’t had much to drink at breakfast or lunch, perhaps he’s dehydrated? Does that mimic infatuation? He can’t exactly ask Pomfrey, she’ll know something’s off if he shows up in the infirmary voluntarily. 

He decides to hydrate over the afternoon while he finishes up his final curriculum proposal for the board of governors, and think no more about it. Although it’s not as easy as all that. Flashes of Severus in his white T-shirt haunt Harry all day. 

At supper, Severus is in his usual severe robes, all buttoned up, but that doesn’t seem to matter. Harry now knows what’s underneath, and the thought continues to drive him a bit spare. 

Minerva seems to notice something’s wrong, but after a few probing questions, which Harry answers absently while staring at Severus eat his salad, she gives up and sits back in her chair, an odd look on her face. 

“…thought of a few more ideas for your board proposal. I can discuss them with you later if you care to stop by my quarters, or tomorrow if you’d rather.” Severus is speaking but Harry has no idea about what.

Harry blinks, looking up from Severus’ mouth to his eyes. “Sorry, what?”

Severus hums. “I said—”

His mind catching up, Harry nods. “Right. Sorry. Yes! The proposal. That would be brilliant. I’ll stop by yours later. Sounds good. I just—” Sure he’s being an idiot, Harry stands. “I need to go and, um, talk to someone.”

As he hurries away, Severus calls after, “But you’ve hardly eaten anything.” 

“Harry’s an adult, Severus. I’m sure he knows how much to eat,” says Minerva, eyes flicking between them, a faint smirk about her lips. “Goodnight, Harry.” 

“’Night!” Harry doesn’t stop until he’s back in his quarters and, breathing hard, he grabs some Floo power, tossing it in the fireplace. “Hermione Granger!” 

Luckily, Hermione’s home. “Harry!” Her face appears in the fire. “It’s good to hear from you. Are you all right?” 

“I’m…not sure.” Harry feels better as he looks into her concerned eyes. “I need a professional opinion.” 

“Professional?” Hermione looks him over, apparently satisfied with what she sees. “You look all right. Did you fall? Break something?” Her eyes widen. “Is it your scar?” 

“No.” Harry shakes his head. “Thank Merlin, it’s none of those things.”

“Okay.” She smiles. “What is it, then? Tell me.” 

“I met with Severus this afternoon—” He tells her, holding nothing back, and when he’s done he says, “So could it be something I ate? Drank? _Didn’t_ drink? I thought maybe dehydration—”

The expression on Hermione’s face is oddly reminiscent of Minerva’s. “Oh, Harry.” She sounds fondly exasperated. “You’re not sick.” She chuckles. “Although some mind healers do think the symptoms of what you’ve got are rather akin to madness.” 

Harry chews his bottom lip. “So I do have something?” 

Hermione laughs. “You fancy him, you goose. You’ve fancied people before, haven’t you?” 

Gaping, Harry blinks a few times. “Well, yeah. But…but it can’t be! He’s a bloke and I’m not gay. I like girls!” 

Hermione raises an eyebrow. “Could it be that you like both?” she asks, tone gentle.

“I…” Harry sits back on his haunches. “Maybe?” he says in a small voice as the realisation hit him like a Bludger. “Bloody hell, Hermione. I really do fancy him. What do I do?” 

“Make sure you know your own feelings before you do anything,” Hermione says. “This is Snape we’re talking about. He doesn’t…bounce back well.” 

Harry thinks about the way Severus looked in the T-shirt and he bites his lip. Now that she’s named it, he’s pretty sure how he feels. “Do you think he fancies me back?” 

Hermione’s reply is slow and deliberate. “I think there could be a possibility, but he’s a hard man to read. Just…Harry, be careful, all right? Don’t rush into anything too serious too soon. You work together, this could get complicated if you end up being involved in a relationship.” 

“And if you do end up with him, no details!” cries Ron from behind her, his voice coming through the Floo clearly.

“Shush, Ron!” Hermione’s smirk is wicked. “And speak for yourself.” 

Blushing, Harry rolls his eyes. “You’re assuming he reciprocates my feelings. Something I don’t yet know.” 

“Just feel him out carefully, but don’t overthink it.” Hermione winks. “And, Harry? Have fun.” 

“So don’t rush into anything but have fun?” Harry groans. “You’re not making sense.” 

“Yes, I am.” She glances back over her shoulder. “I think Ron wants me to Obliviate him now. Let me know how it goes!” 

Hermione’s advice reverberates in his head as Harry goes to Severus’ private quarters later that evening, his parchments in hand. 

It’s still sweltering, the heat wave is going full force, and Harry’s not sure if he wants to find Severus in his robes or in the bloody distracting T-shirt again. 

As it turns out, he finds him in neither. 

“Harry. Come in.” Severus, clad in a white button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to display those distracting arms, and black trousers, steps aside. And Harry, inhaling, thinks he’ll do fine, until he notices Severus is barefoot. 

He has nicely shaped feet, high arches, and his even his bloody toes are elegant. Fucking hell he’s sexy.

Every bit of blood in Harry’s body shoots to the least helpful place, and as he sidles past Severus, he’s careful to position his parchments in front of his groin while wondering how he can survive the evening. 

“Have a seat,” Severus says, moving past him. “Excuse my causal attire, but it’s too hot for anything else. Do you have a drink preference this evening? I got some more of that elf wine you like.” 

Harry’s pretty sure he shouldn’t drink, not with the direction his thoughts are veering, but before he can say anything, Severus has poured the wine and, well, he doesn’t want to be rude. He sits on the sofa, positions the parchments over his lap, and accepts the glass with a smile. 

“Are these the final drafts?” Severus asks, settling beside him on the sofa and reaching for the parchments. “Let me take a look—”

“Wait!” Scrambling, Harry shifts, almost spilling his wine on himself in his attempt to hand over the parchments and simultaneously slide a throw blanket over himself. 

Severus frowns. “Are you cold?”

“Maybe a little?” Harry lies. 

Severus’ expression becomes concerned. “Perhaps you should see Poppy. No one should be cold during this heat wave.” And before Harry knows it, Severus has reached out and is testing the temperature of his forehead. “You don’t feel feverish.” He draws his wand as if to do medical diagnostic spells. 

“I’m fine.” Harry exhales, shoves aside the blanket and, clasping Severus’ wand arm, gently lowers it. “I’m…Um…”

“Yes? What is it?” Severus leans forward. “I’m sensing a bit of a barrier between us, Harry. This happened earlier today as well. What’s going on? Have I done something to upset you? If so, I do hope you know you can tell me.” He puts his wand away, sits back, and waits. 

Harry fiddles with his wine glass. “It’s just…I realised something earlier today and I’m need to wrap my mind around it a bit, and I don’t want to do the wrong thing because this…thing is important to me, really important, and I could ruin it if I blunder in and do something stupid and—”

“You’re babbling, Harry.” Severus sips his wine, his dark eyes patient. “Just say it.” 

“I like you!” Harry blurts. 

Severus blinks. “And I like you.” He smirks. “Inasmuch as I like anyone.” 

Harry exhales. “No. I mean I _like_ you.” 

Harry sees it the moment Severus gets his meaning. His expression immediately goes blank. “Be clear, Harry. There isn’t room for misunderstanding about this. It sounds as if you’re saying something…impossible, something that could ruin our friendship.” 

“I’m saying I fancy you.” Harry’s fingers are clutching the wine glass like it’s a lifeline. “I know it’s sudden, and trust me, it was sudden for me, too. I’m just worried about it changing what we have, our friendship. It’s precious to me and—”

“What we have is precious to me, too.” Severus is staring into his wineglass, not meeting Harry’s eyes. 

Feeling as if he’s fucked things up, Harry tries to backtrack. “We don’t have to act on it,” he offers. “Especially if you’re not interested,” he mutters, shame washing over him. “Or you think it really could ruin our friendship. I don’t want to pressure you, I just wanted you to know why I was acting so oddly earlier. We can just forget it—”

“No. I don’t believe I can.” Severus places his hand on Harry’s knee, and the contact is electric. 

Harry’s breath catches as he meets Severus’ eyes, which are no longer expressionless. There’s longing and hope and no small amount of lust, and Harry swallows past the lump in his throat to whisper, “Why not?” 

Severus’ smile is rueful. “Because I rather fancy you, too.” 

Harry gapes. “But I had no idea!” he says. 

“I daresay I’m better at concealing my true feelings than you are.” Severus smirks. “The skills I learned as a spy continue to serve me well.” 

“So…what now?” Harry is trembling with the effort not to lean forward and snog Severus breathless, Headmaster or not. 

“Now?” Severus gently pries Harry glass from his hand and sets it aside. “Now we see how this goes.” 

The kiss starts out butterfly soft, until Harry’s tongue darts out to lick at the seam of Severus’ mouth. Severus lets him in, and then it’s all tongues sliding against each other as they explore, and teeth nipping at swollen lips as Harry completely loses himself in Severus. 

Severus kisses with his whole body, and soon, Harry is panting into his mouth as Severus slides a hand around his neck to pull him closer. Severus’ thumb is caressing Harry’s jaw as they kiss, and Harry’s hands are clutching Severus’ shoulders and before he knows it, Harry’s rubbing against him, rutting, and Severus is holding him as he shudders and comes in his pants like a sodding teenager. 

Drawing back, Severus smiles at Harry. “Not how I predicted this would go, but flattering nonetheless.” 

Flushing, Harry looks down. “Sorry about that. I usually have a bit more self-control—”

“What did I just say?” Severus hums. “It’s not every day a gorgeous young man comes in my arms just from kissing. That’s quite the compliment.” The look he gives Harry is as sizzling as the heat wave they’re in. “You’re very responsive, which makes me want to see how else your body can respond.”

Harry bites back a moan. He’s pretty sure Severus can take him apart easily, and he can’t wait to find out. Still, it’s a big step. “So…bed?” he prompts. And just then he realises that despite the fact he’s visited many times, he’s never seen Severus’ bed.

“In this heat?” Severus snorts. “Shower, I think.”

It’s a brilliant idea. Harry nods. “Yes, all right.” 

Severus inclines his head and, standing, extends his hand to Harry. And, looking up into Severus’ face, Harry sees matching uncertainty. Oddly, it calms him and, smiling, he accepts Severus’ hand, lets him lead him towards the bath. 

They pass through the bedroom, which is large, and a little cooler, but not much, and then Severus draws him into the bathroom, which is huge. It has a palatial tub and a shower that could fit ten people. But Harry doesn’t get much of a chance to look around because Severus is pressing him up against a wall, kissing him.

Mouths joined, they fumble with each other’s clothes, but finally manage to undress each other before Severus pulls away, waves his hand at the shower spray to turn it on. 

The water’s lukewarm when Harry steps in. It feels marvellous. Severus enters after him and, closing the glass door, walks him backward until Harry’s pressed against cool tile. Eyebrow raised, Severus looks at him. “What do you want?” he asks.

“Fuck me,” Harry whispers. 

Severus wastes no time. Leaning in, he kisses Harry, his tongue distractingly thorough as he explores Harry’s mouth. At the same time, his fingers, slick and wet, slide between Harry’s legs to cup his balls, fondling them briefly before sliding towards his hole. 

Harry’s clutching Severus’ shoulders, moaning as Severus manoeuvres his finger inside him. The water’s gone cooler, but it still feels good as Severus manages to press a second and finally, a third finger inside Harry. 

Severus twists his fingers, stretching Harry thoroughly, all the while pressing kisses along his jaw and down his neck, and when he scrapes his teeth along the column of Harry’s throat, Harry howls as pleasure shoots up his spine before settling in his core. 

“Like that, do we?” Severus murmurs, sliding his fingers out. “Turn around.”

Harry wants to protest, wants to say something about wanting to see Severus as he fucks him, but the words won’t come, and by the time he realises what’s happening, he’s been spun around, his chest is against the tile, and his legs are spread, Severus’ thumbs pressing his arse cheeks apart. 

“What are you…Oh fuck!” Harry shouts at the first flick of Severus’ tongue against his hole. Unable to contain himself, he pushes back, groaning as Severus drills inside him, his tongue and fingers opening Harry up agonisingly slowly. 

Severus’ face is pressed up against him as he eats him out, and Harry’s hands scrabble for purchase against the slick tile wall. His cock is full again, hard and acing for a touch, for anything, but Harry can’t think clearly enough to stroke himself. He’s barely able to stay upright, knees weak with pleasure as Severus wreaks havoc with his tongue and fingers. 

When Severus shifts again, Harry is whimpering, his nails scraping along the tile walls as he fights to last long enough to have Severus’ cock inside him. “Not gonna last,” he gasps as he hears Severus slicking himself. The water, now cold, helps, but he’s still pretty sure he’ll come apart the moment Severus slides his cock in. 

“Then don’t,” Severus whispers in his ear, and then something thick is nudging at his hole and as Severus breaches Harry, Harry closes his eyes and bites his lower lip hard to stop himself from coming. 

Severus is big, he feels enormous inside Harry, and as he slowly moves deeper, Harry is gasping for air, whimpering as Severus pushes every pleasure button Harry has. 

“All right?” Severus asks, and Harry nods frantically. He’s more than all right, he’s brilliant, and as Severus buries himself to the hilt, pausing to allow Harry time to adjust, Harry arches his back, trying to take him deeper. 

Severus takes the hint, drawing back before thrusting back inside. His movements are slow, measured, and he varies his strokes until he slides over a spot that makes Harry shout. “There,” he murmurs, satisfaction dripping from the word, and proceeds to pound away at that spot.

Harry shrieks, his balls drawing up and his cock spurting against the tile wall as he shudders through his second orgasm of the night and as his world goes white. 

When he comes to, it’s to find Severus driving into him frantically, his hands clenching Harry’s hips as his movements grow frenzied, uneven. Finally Severus growls, shoving himself deep as his body shudders through its throes of pleasure, his body collapsing against Harry’s as he pants for air. 

Several long moments pass before Severus gently uncouples them and, drawing Harry down with him, sits on the floor of the shower. The water is icy and, with a weak wave of his hand, Severus turns off the spray. 

Harry, chest still heaving with exertion, curls into Severus, tucking his face into the curve of Severus’ neck. 

“So,” says Severus minutes later, “I think that went well.” 

Harry starts to laugh, but as Severus’ arms, those wiry, muscled, gorgeous arms Harry can’t help but still admire, close around him, Harry settles, pulls back to stare Severus in the eyes. “Yes, I’d say it did. Although I guess our friendship has been pretty thoroughly ruined.” 

“Perhaps.” Severus doesn’t look or sound concerned, and Harry relaxes. 

After a moment, Harry sighs. “I guess we should get up and dry off.” And hopefully try sex in a bed. 

“Yes.” Severus hums. “Is it me or does it seem cooler?” 

Harry raises his head and blinks. “You know, I think you’re right. Maybe the heat wave’s finally broken?” 

Cupping Harry’s jaw, Severus kisses him hard before pulling back. “Something tells me I’ll always feel as if I’m in a heat wave when you’re around.” 

Harry grins, and as Severus manoeuvres them to their feet and guides Harry to his bed, he can only think that perhaps Severus is right. 

~


End file.
